Ryme City Syndicate: Molotov Edition (A Pokémon Story)
by Drag0nLoverXXX
Summary: In a city that once prevailed as the epicenter of Pokémon rights, a social breakdown has transpired in Ryme City. Now, the metropolis has split into factions, and an impending turf war looms near. Will the antifascists or Pokénationalists prevail? Find out in Ryme City Syndicate: Molotov Edition!
1. A METAphysical Inception

"Holy fucking shit, these are the best fuckin' s'mores I've ever had in my whole goddamn life! Jessie, you gotta try this shit," said James excitedly, licking the excess marshmallow off his gloved fingers. The Rocket trio had settled down for lunch along a small clearing tucked away within the interior of Viridian Forest on their way through to Pallet Town. The amateur criminals had been assigned prosaic Grunt work on behalf of their boss, Giovanni following a deluge of failed missions. So far, the trek had been rather uneventful, though their lunch was certainly well-deserved. Jessie put down her hairbrush to look up at her cyan-haired partner in disgust.

"I can't be seen eating junk like that James, I'm on a diet. My body would never forgive me," she sighed, hands poised. "Besides, hardline criminals don't eat marshmallow."

"Aw c'mon Jess!" exclaimed Meowth. "Don't knock it 'til ya try it!" He pushed a marshmallow-skewered roasting stick to her cheek, prodding her in an attempt to get the female Rocket to give in. Jessie turned her head in disgust.

"Absolutely not! I cannot believe you two! I do NOT understand how you expect to rise through the ranks of Team Rocket if you've gone this soft!"

"But Jessie," whined James in his ostentatiously posh voice. "I saw you eating a McGriddle for breakfast!" Jessie's face flushed a bright red colour, identical to that of her own hair.

"WHY YOU-" she raised a hand to strike James in anger but was cut short by a disgruntled Meowth.

"Guys! Quiet!" He placed a paw over the woman's mouth, concealing her rage. The feuding Rockets turned to face him. Meowth's ears perked up. "Listen!" Farther into the bush, a faint rustling could be heard.

"What is it?" asked James, standing up from his grassy seat.

"Well I'm not about ta' look, why don't you do it Jessie?!" pushed Meowth.

"NO WAY, I had nothing to eat! James! Investigate!" The male Rocket looked at her with hesitation..

"But why m-"

"DON'T MAKE ME ANGRY!" she barked. James shrunk back at Jessie's words, unsurprised but nonetheless taken aback.

"Well… alright…" he murmured to himself. The flamboyant man began plodding toward the sound with a superfluous, wavering self-doubt. James paused to peer behind the bushes at the edge of the clearing, teetering on his feet as to appear inconspicuous. Meowth paced impatiently.

"Well speak up already! Whaddaya see, ya big queer?" snapped the Normal-Type in its natural grating lisp.

"Something's moving just under the leaves here. I can't quite tell what it- oh wait, it's coming out." He gasped, a silence immediately washing over him. Without taking his eyes away from the creature that had just emerged from the bush, he raised his hand behind him and beckoned for Jessie and Meowth to join him.

"James, what are you-" began the hot-headed Rocket.

"Shh," interrupted her partner. "Come look!" As the two came closer, they gasped in turn.

"Is that…?"

"A Vulpix," finished James, eyes fixated.

"Fuck yeah, score!" whispered Meowth, rubbing its paws together. "You guys have yer Pokéballs with you, yeah?"

"Who needs Pokéballs when you can have a net launcher?" exclaimed James, quietly rushing over to their campfire and picking up a hydraulic t-shirt cannon. "Is it still there?"

"It is," replied Jessie, reaching for her belt. She pulled a ball, setting it to release.

"Arbok, let's go!" The Cobra Pokémon appeared in a splash of red light, ready for battle.

"ARBOK!" it hissed. Jessie smirked.

"This'll be easy."

"Easier than takin' candy from a motherfuckin' baby!" declared Meowth in a bout of confidence.

"Arbok, use Wrap! ...and don't let it go until it stops moving!" The snake lunged at the Wild Vulpix, flashing its fangs in the process.

"ARBOK ARBOK!" The Vulpix jumped aside in surprise, narrowly evading the Pokémon's attack. It fled from the campsite, kicking up dirt in its wake.

"Don't let it get away!" screeched Meowth, now on all fours and in hot pursuit. Jessie and James tailed their Pokémon friend closely, trying to make sure their effort wasn't in vain. Unfortunately, the Fire-Type was agile; darting through both trees and shrubs with ease, and while Meowth could decently match its pace, the human Rockets were not having such an easy time.

"Meowth (ow), slow (fuck) down (shit!)" shouted Jessie as branches whipped her harder than a pornstar's cock on a slut's face. The two fell behind by a considerable amount, rounding bends half-blindly, following their Meowth's tracks where possible. They were about to give up when they were met with a loud resounding CRACK, a sound resembling that of a watermelon being slapped with a splayed hand.  
"FUCK," screeched Meowth. Jessie and James caught up to their friend, both out of breath and covered in scratches. Before them lay Meowth, rubbing his head beside a large Pecha Berry tree.

"JESUS FUCK IT ESCAPED!"

"Are you okay, Meowth?!" worried James, walking up to his friend.

"Did you hit your head on that tree?" asked Jessie, rolling her eyes. Meowth looked up at them, one eye closed.

"Yeah, and then one of them Pecha Berries fell out and hit me square on the noggin'! Talk about bad luck!" Jessie stepped to the side, surveying the ground.

"Uh, Meowth? That's not a Pecha Berry," corrected Jessie. Meowth and James turned to the female Rocket.

"HUH?"

"It's a Metapod."

* * *

In what felt like an eternity later, the trio arrived in Celadon City, barely containing their excitement. They had done it. Finally, they had fucking done it. After _years, _YEARS of futile attempts in capturing that fuckstain Ketchum's Pikachu, they had actually managed to capture a real live Pokémon. Sure, the Metapod didn't seem like much compared to the brat's electric rat thing, but for the three Rocket members this was the equivalent of coming home with a Zapdos. Likewise, the Team had recently discovered that the Pikachu they coveted for so long had passed away due to the trainer's incompetence, and although disappointing at first, they soon came to the realization that its death opened up many new avenues in their pursuit of trafficking Pokémon. And here they were with a Metapod. Something they could finally show their boss and be proud of.

"So, what's the first thing you guys are gonna buy with the reward money?" asked James happily. "For me, I think it will have to be a massive box of traditional Japanese jelly doughnuts. I can never get enough of those things."

"Is food seriously all you ever think about?" responded Jessie, shaking her head as her partner drooled, fantasies of the fruit-filled delicacies filling his head.

"Sounds good ta' me," rattled Meowth, "But to be honest I'm just lookin' forward ta' actually makin' tha boss proud for once. Do ya think we could get promoted wif all dis?"

"Well, let's not get ahead of ourselves," said Jessie, but she was smiling. "We have to actually present our new acquisition to him. Let's just make the final stretch to HQ before either of you have another chance to fuck this up for us."

The Team Rocket headquarters was a four-storey complex located under Celadon City's infamous 'Games Centre'. The organization also ran the centre itself, which not only acted as a front to their criminal operations, but brought in a little side-cash to compensate for fuckups like Jessie, James, and Meowth. The Centre's slogan was "The Playground for Grown-ups", and while it was a popular destination for tourists, the establishment was loathed by locals.

You see, casino gambling was once a largely upper-class activity. Today, low-income workers, retirees, minorities, and the disabled include disproportionately large shares of regional casino patrons.

According to a study from the University at Buffalo Research Institute on Addictions, the poorer the neighborhood, the higher the risk for problem gambling. In areas with the highest "neighborhood disadvantage" – determined by census factors such as the percentage of people who were unemployed, received public assistance, and/or live in poverty – more than 11 percent were problem gamblers, compared to just 5 percent in neighborhoods ranking in the top fifth of economic advantage. And boy, was Celadon a shithole.

Casinos are also targeting older Kantonites. One third of the region's population visited a casino in 2012 and more than half were fifty years or older. Casinos often prey on older customers by catering to their special needs, providing wheelchairs, scooters, adult diapers, and other amenities for customers with mobility and health problems. This manufactured "kindness" is especially appealing to people who are lonely and isolated from the larger community.

All-in-all, a casino operation fit in nicely with Team Rocket's value system. Commiting crime, praying on the vulnerable, and attaining capital- whether that be money or Pokémon.

"What the?!" gasped Meowth in shock. "There are popo all over our joint! And there's the Baws? HEY BAWS! BAWS, OVER HERE!" Police cruisers surrounded the entrance to the casino, two officers in heavy kevlar towing Giovanni out into the daylight bearing cuffs.

"Oh God, what happened?!" James exclaimed, walking up to the casino's staircase with Jessie behind him.

"Halt Rockets!" barked an Officer Jenny. She blew her whistle, pointing a finger at them.

"You're coming down to the precinct with us!"

"Is that so?" smirked James, tossling his bangs. Jessie stepped up beside her partner, wearing a grin of her own. She opened the Team Rocket motto with grace:

_Prepare for trouble!_

_And make it double!_

_To protect the world from devastation!_

_To unite all peoples within our nation!_

_To denounce the evils of truth and love!_

_To extend our reach to the stars above!_

_Jessie!_

_Ja- HEY! _

Officer Jenny slapped a pair of handcuffs around James' wrists, slamming the fruitcake face-first against the hood of her cruiser.

"You just ruined a perfectly good mott- HEY! GET OFF OF ME!" In turn, another officer cuffed an angry Jessie, pushing her to the ground, baton extended.

"You dumbasses!" roared Giovanni, being pushed into a squad car of his own. "Can't you read a situation?! You're an embarrassment!

"But baws," interrupted Meowth. "We caught a Pokémon for yah! Look, see?!" the Cat Scratch Pokémon held out their fabled Metapod.

"What… what the fuck? That's useless! Why would you even catch a Metapod, there are literally Butterfree all over Kanto!" Meowth flinched from the rejection.

"But we caught it in Viridian Forest!"

"So? It's still the same goddamn thing. You know something, you two are lucky you're going to prison. It's probably the safest place for you right now. Because as soon as you're out, you'll be fucking dead. I'll make sure of it myself."


	2. The Core of CIVIC Virtue

"Thank you so much for coming here today," shouted Sierra, inciting a call to action. The crowd below her roared in cacophonous applause, angered by the lack of meaningful climate strategy. She waited for the dissatisfied cries to calm down, before continuing.

"It is unbelievable how many you are. Ryme City PD say about 15,000. It is an honour for me to be here with you today. Thank you." Another round of applause followed.

"It is always so hopeful to see this every Friday. This is a movement with millions upon millions of people, telling the world's Pokémon Champions to act on the science, demanding a safe future for both us and everyone. Together, we will make a change.

Sierra shifted her weight on the small stage, turning to her colleague.

"I am honoured to stand next to Professor Baobab, who addressed League Champions in Johto, 1992."

Before Sierra, there was Amelia Baobab, the Ryme City girl who silenced the world.

24 years ago, at the age of 12, Baobab said, "At Pokémon school, even in kindergarten, you teach us how to behave in the world. You teach us to fight with others to work things out, to respect others and Pokémon, to clean up our mess, not to hurt other creatures fatally, to share, to not be greedy. Then why do you go out and do the things you tell us not to do?"

Sierra continued.

"I am fighting for my future. Losing my future is not like losing an election, or a few points on the stock market.

"Baobab told the world everything the world needed to know 24 years ago and the science told us, told our world leaders everything they needed to know 24 years ago.

"If people would have listened back then, the world would be a completely different place than it is today. But the world ignored her, and the Pokémon Champions continued to choose to look away from this crisis, even today. Global CO2 emissions have skyrocketed with industrialization, and have continued to wreak havoc on society, growing exponentially in the past 25 years alone.

"If Champions would have started to take action back then, when this crisis became known to them, then imagine the sufferings that could have been prevented. It is shameful that for so long, the ongoing climate and ecological emergency has been ignored. People in power today are still acting as if there was no tomorrow.

"We will rise to the challenge, hold those responsible for this crisis accountable and we will make League Champions act. We can. And we will."

Sierra turned to face Ryme City Hall, which had been to her back the entire speech.

"And if you feel threatened by that then I have some very bad news for you: this is just the beginning. We will continue. Because change is coming, whether you like it or not.

"Thank you."

The crowd exploded with cheers for the young woman as she came to the end of her spiel, but while most of the world would see this as a great achievement, Sierra would never hold her breath until she knew with certainty that Sunyshore Climate Accord agreements were being met. And unfortunately, Ryme City was filled with some of the biggest hypocrites she had ever had the displeasure of meeting. She sighed, sitting on the edge of environmental nihilism with passing day. Despite claims of progress, of equality between humans and Pokémon, of a path to a brighter future, she knew these were all just empty words. Equality for Pokémon? What a joke! The Pokémon had lived here peacefully long before the construction of the city, and humans had no right to make any statement about their place in it. And Sierra knew deep down that, even though her speech appeared to have made an impact, neither the world's leaders nor the citizens of Ryme City would ever give up their comfortable lives in order to make a real effort.

The young woman looked to the ground, turning to leave the stage, but her busy thoughts were quickly interrupted by the sounds of shouting and squealing tires. She whipped around in shock, and was met with a sight even more terrifying than a Turtiny choking on a plastic drinking straw. The crowd, which had been filled with so much excitement and passion only seconds earlier, was dispersing in a scream-filled frenzy as a white Honda Civic plowed through Parade Square, mowing down anyone in its path. Sierra froze on the spot petrified, staring in disbelief at the carnage. Red splatters the colour of cheri berries covered the hood of the vehicle as it made its way ever-closer towards the stage.

"Sierra! Look out!" a hand grabbed her shoulder. "Sierra!" The girl was still glued in place, unable to fully process the gravity of the situation.

"SIERRA!"

The activist felt herself being thrown to the ground as the stage gave way.

_Sierra blacked out._

* * *

People and Pokémon rushed past Ernie MacGregor, pouring into the side streets surrounding the city center. In a panicked state, he grabbed for his daughter's hand, only to feel it slip through empty air. He looked down at his son Arthur, who had clutched to the ex-cop's side the moment distress broke out. Ernie turned his head left and right, scanning the mess for a trace of his child.

"Oaklyn! Oaklyn" he called. He pulled his son in closer so the child wouldn't be eaten by the fleeing mob.

"Oaklyn!" Ernie pushed through the crowd.

"Daddy!" called a voice from nearby. Relief flooded Ernie's chest, but the feeling was short-lived. He could hear the engine of the rogue vehicle nearby, and began desperately shoving people aside, running in the direction of his daughter's cries.

"Don't worry sweetie, I'm coming!" he shouted as he dragged Arthur along behind him. He found Oaklyn sitting on the ground, crying, and scooped her up into his free arm, still holding his son's hand with the other. Flying to the crowd's outskirts, Ernie buckled over in exhaustion.

"Ernie! Are you alright?" The father looked up, greeted by a neighbor from his apartment complex.

"Sheryl, I need you to do me a favour! Take the kids and don't turn back! I have to deal with this!" he thrust the children onto her, disappearing back into the swarm of climate protestors and leaving Sheryl standing behind him, mouth agape. The crowd had thinned slightly by this point, and he could see the Civic in a contorted mess of steel and wood from the stage where Sierra stood. "NO!" He sprinted to the head of Parade Square as fast as his feet could carry him. He needed to get to the car. By God, he would make that son of a bitch pay. Arriving at the ruined vehicle, tunnel vision took over. Ernie grabbed the car's door and pulled it from it's broken hinges. A young man wearing a black trench coat and sunglasses lay slumped over the wheel unconscious. Ernie's eyes widened.

"You."


	3. A not so ESPRESSOteric Account

"Could I get you a coffee or something, sir?" came a polite voice, startling the father who was now seated in the front reception area of the Ryme City Police Station. Ernie looked up to see a young officer staring down at him, looking quite flustered. "It may be a while before they can speak with you... as you can see we are very busy, what with the… well, you know."

Ernie grimaced, wishing he could just erase today's memories. He sighed. "Sure, yeah, I'll take one."

"Sugar? Cream?"

"Black, like my late mother," replied the ex-cop with confidence. The policeman offered a quizzical expression before returning to the kitchenette.

Sometime later, MacGregor was clasping a cup of joe in his hands, as unimpressed with the watered-down coffee as he was with the styrofoam it was held in. _If I had known about this I would have brought my own reusable travel mug, _he fumed to himself. Of course, it wasn't like he had expected to be in this situation today. He rolled back in his seat, eyes panning to the office clock. He had been here for what felt like hours. Raising his drink to take a sip, a familiar figure caught his eye. Coffee dribbling down his chin, Ernie wiped the corners of his mouth with a tissue.

"Jenny…" He knew that there was one of them in every city, but nonetheless he was not prepared to once again see the face of the woman who had singlehandedly destroyed his marriage and ruined his career.

"Ernie MacGregor? We would like to speak with you now."

* * *

Sitting in the interrogation room, MacGregor couldn't help but wonder how this whole Jenny deal worked. Were all the sisters a result of a single pregnancy? If so, how big was their mother? If not, what were the odds of so many non-twin siblings looking exactly alike? Were they all clones perhaps, or part of some collective hive mind? Did that mean that the officer seated across from him was aware of his previous sexual experiences with her doppelgänger? Ernie had so many questions for the Jenny, but unfortunately, he would be met with her own.

"Mr. MacGregor. I'm sorry about what you had to witness today. How are you feeling?" she asked in that seductive voice he knew all too well.

"Fine," he replied, untruthfully.

"That was a very brave thing you did, confronting that man. Brave, albeit foolish. This is an extremely volatile individual we are talking about, who knows what may have happened had he been conscious when you found him."

Ernie cleared his throat. "I know ma'am. It was instinct. I used to be in the force myself back on Cinnabar Island in Kanto." The officer brightened a bit at these words.

"Hey, you must know my sister, Jenny!" exclaimed Jenny.

"Oh yeah," muttered Ernie. _I know Jenny alright…_

The woman pulled out a small notebook and pen, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Now I _do_ have a few questions for you. I understand some things might be a little shaky from the shock of it all, but please answer to the best of your ability. I'll be taking notes, and we'll have our interview recorded for the evidence locker, a process in which I'm sure you're familiar with." MacGregor nodded, motioning for Jenny to begin, readjusting his train of thought.

"Now I'm curious, we know that the suspect's vehicle plowed through the crowd in Parade Square, hitting a number of victims before making contact with the stage. Can you describe what you saw as you approached the vehicle?"

"He was slumped over the wheel, pretty bloodied too, I'd say... I don't remember it that well to be honest. I was seeing red and then I recognized his face." Jenny glanced up, surprised.

"You know him?"

"I know of him."

* * *

"I'm a gender studies major at the Ryme City Community College. A couple years ago we had our annual student union election. Adam Lucas was one of the four candidates running for president. Now, I'm not really the kind of person to pay attention to this sort of thing, school elections are always a bit of a shit show. But Lucas' campaign? I don't think there was a single student who wasn't aware of it. Christ, the guy spent the entirety of his campaign sporting a trench coat and sunglasses. Right-wing dog whistle much? He was clearly running as a joke, trying to mock the student body or whatever, which I honestly would have been fine with if the whole thing didn't come across as so, I don't know, deniably fascist? And hell, that shit was dated anyway. What was that, an imageboard full of people who have never watched the Matrix in their life à la 2013? Anyways, the whole thing culminated in an unholy debate where he took things too far and got kicked out. I guess he told some ridiculous story involving the president of the school dead behind a bush? I don't know. The debate is online on a PokéTube channel called 'Justice For Adam', but I couldn't manage to get through it without cringing."

"Have you had any close contact with Mr. Lucas following his campaign?" asked Jenny with curiosity.

"No, thank God," he exhaled. Jenny fiddled with her pen and began jotting down notes, occasionally stopping to fact check with Ernie.

"Thank you, MacGregor. Between you and me, this will help us build nicely onto Mr. Lucas' long-standing profile more... intimately.

The interview didn't last for much longer. Ernie soon found himself bidding Officer Jenny goodnight, fastening his peacoat and stepping out into the neon-lit streets of Ryme City. He was exhausted and needed to join his family, but on impulse decided to make a quick stop at the Hi-Hat Café for some _real _joe. Anything to get the taste of that toxic sludge from earlier out of his mouth. And hey, not only was the Hi-Hat right across the street: it had biodegradable cups. His head still buzzing from today's events, the ex-cop entered the little store and joined the queue. He could barely grasp what had happened over the past several hours. Perhaps he could single out some issues so he could focus on each individually. First of all, he was going to have to figure out what he would say to Sheryl when he returned for Arthur and Oaklyn. He had, rather irresponsibly, left his children in his neighbour's care without even waiting for her response. She was not going to be happy when he returned. He checked his phone, blown up with messages from friends and family alike. _Great._ Despite everything, he just wanted to be able to get a good night's sleep. But he knew he wouldn't. Not until that bastard paid.

Upon reaching the front of the line, Ernie realized that caffeine was probably not in his best interest right now. He opted for a hot chocolate instead.

"Regular or white?" asked the barista.

"White, like my deadbeat dad," said Ernie deliberately. The young woman nodded curtly in understanding. As she turned to prepare the drink, Ernie stopped her suddenly. "Wait!", he said. "Could I get that with two shots of espresso?"


End file.
